


My Empty Arms Will Be Filled With You

by runsinthefamily



Series: Empty Arms [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Rimming, my issues and your issues make beautiful broken music together, schmoopiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-24
Updated: 2011-09-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:08:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsinthefamily/pseuds/runsinthefamily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders and Garrett's first night.  Revelations, promises, body hair!</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Empty Arms Will Be Filled With You

_You have to tell him._

Garrett leaned his forehead against the warm stone of his fireplace and closed his eyes. Maker, that kiss ... he could still feel Anders's lips against his own, the coarse rasp of his stubble, the heat of his breath, the slide of his long, elegant fingers through Garrett's hair. Garrett shivered a little, half with desire, half with fear.

He wasn't a virgin. There had been Rose in Lothering and the freckled scout at Ostagar and, of course, Isabela. Men, though ... not so much. A kiss here and there.

He'd been so _blatant_. The things he'd said, the bravado, desperate to break through Anders's reserve and self-loathing and fear ... he had to tell him. As soon as Anders arrived.

A sound, down below. The front door closing. The scuff of boots on the stairs. _Andraste's ashes_. His hands were trembling, just a little. Footsteps in the hall and then.

Anders.

He paused in the doorway for a breath, his eyes seeking Garrett's, and then he smiled a little and came in. The firelight gilded him, shone on his buckles, made his hair a rich, shadowed glory. His walk was different, relaxed and loose-limbed and, and sexy.

Garrett's mouth went dry and he could hardly manage to speak. "You're here. I wasn't sure you would come."

Anders stopped in front of him, lifted a hand, and trailed his fingertips down the embroidered crest on Garrett's house jacket. "Justice does not," he said and then paused. "Oh, fuck it," he said, put both hands on Garrett's face, and pulled him into a kiss.

It had nothing of the wild, driven desperation of the kiss in the clinic. Instead it was a slow, leisurely, sensual exploration. Garrett lost himself in it. He let Anders drive the kiss, hoping that somehow it would say what he couldn't bring himself to reveal.

Anders broke away, breath quickened, brows creased. "I - I just can't believe this is real," he said, running a thumb along Garrett's jaw. "What I feel for you, I don't ..." He looked up into Garrett's eyes. "I've never cared so much before. In the Circle, love was just something we pretended at. To feel too much was dangerous. It gave the Templars too much power if ..."

"Anders," said Garrett.

"It would kill me to lose you," said Anders. A tear sparkled in the corner of his eye. The firelight caught it like a gem.

"You're not going to lose me," said Garrett.

"You can't promise that," said Anders. "But I don't care." He smiled, even as the tear tumbled off his lashes and trailed down his cheek. "I've broken all the other rules."

Garrett wiped the tear away. "Anders, I ..."

Anders kissed him again, sinking his hands into Garrett's hair, arching his back to press his body forward. Garrett moaned a little, helplessly, into Anders's mouth.

"Bed," said Anders.

"Yes," said Garrett. "Yes. But ... coat?"

Anders laughed a little. His hands went to the buckles, undoing them with practiced ease. He dropped pauldrons, jacket, and sleeveless coat all in a heap on the floor. Underneath was a threadbare grey shirt and pants, thin and worn and _clinging_ in so many breathtaking ways.

Garrett's eyes fell from the wiry strength of Anders's shoulders to the press of his half-erect cock. Garrett swallowed. Then backed up, lay down on the bed, and held out his arms.

When Anders came into them, it was like being made whole. The weight of his long, lean body, the heat of his skin, the slide of his leg up between Garrett's, everything, everything felt right. When Anders settled his hips down, trapping their erections together, Garrett couldn't keep silent.

"Anders, you ... oh fuck!"

Anders rolled his hips forward, rubbing deliciously. "You'll have to forgive me," he said, low and intimate. "If I seem a little eager. Three years, Maker, the things I have imagined doing to you." He bit gently at the skin of Garrett's neck, nibbling the verges of his beard. "And now I can." He pushed himself up and stared down at Garrett, his brown eyes wide and dark with desire. He rocked again, his cock growing harder. Garrett was so hard now that he was half-afraid he would spill into his clothing. "Tell me I can, Garrett," Anders whispered.

"Do ... do what?" asked Garrett.

"Anything," said Anders. "Suck your prick, swallow your seed. Fuck you until you scream. Lay down for you, let you put your fingers and your tongue and your cock inside me." His hips were moving rhythmically as he spoke, rutting against Garrett with slow, deliberation. "Make you kneel, paint your face with my come. Lick it off you again. Tie you down. Beg you for mercy. Anything you want. Sweet or rough, fast or slow. However you want it."

" _Maker_ ," Garrett choked.

"Tell me," breathed Anders. He braced himself on one arm and put his other hand into Garrett's house jacket, pulling it away from one shoulder. "Tell me what you want." He put his mouth to Garrett's collarbone and licked it in one smooth line, shoulder to chest.

"I just, I need you ..."

Anders ran his free hand down Garrett's chest and into his pants. Long, warm fingers wrapped themselves around his cock.

"Wait!" Garrett half-shouted. "Wait, I just need, Anders, I ..."

Anders pulled away, that glorious, heavy-eyed want wiped away by distress. "What? What's wrong?" He rose up onto his knees, hair falling out of his ponytail, shirt askew.

"Nothing," said Garrett hurriedly. "Nothing, I just," he wet his lips. "I'm ... nervous."

Anders seemed to shrink in on himself, like a wilting flower. "Because of Justice." He said it flatly.

"No!" Garrett sat up and wrapped his arms around Anders, pressing his face against the other man's chest. "Because, because ..." His voice was muffled. His cheeks were hot. He turned his face to the side, shutting his eyes. "Because I've never been with a man before."

There was a silence while Anders took in a slow, deep breath. It was the longest moment of Garrett's life.

Fingers stroked up the back of Garrett's neck and ruffled into his hair. "Well I went about this all wrong, didn't I?" There was a hint of amusement in Anders's voice, but mostly it was affectionate and relieved.

Garrett looked up into Anders's smile. "No, I liked what you were doing," he said. "Just ..."

"Not all at once?" Anders asked, his smile tipping wryly.

"I want to be what you need," said Garrett. "What you want."

"I want you," said Anders. He cupped Garrett's jaw in his hands and set their foreheads together. "Everything that you are. Or aren't," he added. "And whatever you don't know," his voice darkened again, deliciously, "I will gladly teach you."

"I'm not entirely inexperienced," said Garrett, a little breathlessly. "I'm not a _virgin._ "

"You've been with Isabela," said Anders. "I think technically you're not even allowed to _look_ at virgins anymore."

"She was ... an experience," said Garrett.

Anders laughed. "Someday you'll have to tell me about it." He shifted, straddling Garrett's legs.

"You don't mind? About me and her?"

"You can't really mind about Isabela," said Anders, fondly. "At the time, though, I hated her with the molten hot intensity of a dwarven forge."

Garrett snorted a little.

"I don't mind," said Anders. "Truly. How could I? You're here with me now."

Garrett reached up and laid his hand over Anders's heart. "I'm here with you."

"What do you want?" asked Anders softly. "Right now?"

"I want you to take your shirt off," said Garrett. He rubbed the soft, worn material against Anders, feeling the edge of a scar beneath his palm. "I want to see you."

Anders stripped out of the shirt wordlessly and let it fall off the side of the bed. He was creamy and pale where the sun didn't reach his skin, ruddy tan where it did. A fine scattering of blonde hair across his chest darkened and thickened as it rode down over his belly and into his pants. He was lean, whipcord and spare. His shoulders were angular, his ribs visible.

Garrett put his hand back over the scar on Anders's chest. It was one of many. Fine white lines that spoke of swords and daggers, the starburst ghosts of arrow wounds, a palm-sized twist of burnflesh along his waist. The scar above his heart was different, a ridge of pink and white, rough and vicious.

Anders ran a thumb underneath Garrett's eye and brought it back wet. "It's a map," he said. "The road I walked to get here."

"Hard road," said Garrett.

Anders shrugged a little. "You were at the end of it."

Anders was so intense sometimes, so pure and passionate, and when it was directed at Garrett it knocked the breath out of him.

"Fair's fair," said Anders, tugging at the collar of Garrett's jacket. "Off."

"You've seen me before," said Garrett.

"Bleeding and sweaty and grimy, sure," said Anders. "Covered in spider guts and dragon blood and darkspawn filth. None of that stopped me ogling you, of course."

"I hope the clean version isn't too disappointing," said Garrett. He slipped the belt free, popped two toggles, and let the jacket slither off his shoulders.

Anders's lips parted to let out a soft breath. "Maker, you're beautiful, Garrett," he said. "So, so beautiful." He put both hands on Garrett's chest, spreading out his fingers, and laughed a little. "You're like a Tevinter carving of some epic hero."

"I'm not a hero," said Garrett.

"Maybe you don't see it ..." Anders began.

"I don't want you to see it, either," said Garrett. "I'm just me."

Whatever Anders saw in his face, it made Anders's eyes soften. He pressed gently until Garrett lay back again and followed him down, trailing kisses long his neck and jaw. "I see you," he whispered into Garrett's ear.

Garrett shivered and then rolled, pinning Anders beneath him. The tie had fallen off and the sight of Anders's blond hair spread across his pillow was nearly as stirring as the way Anders arched up under him, sinuous as a cat. Garrett held himself up on his arms, tense and trembling and wanting, oh Maker, so badly.

"I want to fuck you," he said.

Anders's eyes hooded again and he shuddered. His cock surged against Garrett's thigh. "Yes."

"Show me how," said Garrett.

Anders fisted his hands in the sheets. "Do you have oil? Something slippery?"

Garrett fumbled briefly in the stand next to his bed and came up with a small pot of elfroot balm.

"Good. Perfect." Anders put his fingers into the waistband of his pants and pulled them off.

Garrett could not stop staring at the long muscles of Anders's legs, his narrow, high arched feet. His cock lay straight and fine against his belly, springing out of a nest of fine golden hair. Everything about him was heart-clenchingly gorgeous, right down to his toes.

"Fair's fair," said Anders, grabbing at a fold of Garrett's pants with those long, agile toes.

"Right," said Garrett and stripped down. Dark hair curled abundantly on his arms, his chest, ran down thickly into his groin. Garrett tossed his pants and smallclothes on the floor and glanced at Anders.

Who was staring at him, lips slightly parted, eyes dark and intense. His gaze wandered up from Garrett's thighs to his face, slowly. "The things," said Anders, "that I am going to do to you, Garrett Hawke. Sweet Andraste. But not tonight." He spread his legs, bending one at the knee and lifting it to hook his foot around Garrett's waist. "Come here."

Garrett went. More kisses, hot and wet, Anders yielding under him so beautifully, open mouth and little moans. Their cocks slid together nakedly, the sensation electric with its newness, with the knowledge that it was Anders beneath him, Anders's skin against his. Precome dampened and slicked them, and finally Anders broke his mouth free and fumbled for the jar.

"One finger at first," he said, offering the balm. "Take more than that. Take lots."

"Like this?" Garrett slid off to the side and ran his laden fingers under Anders's balls, further down, seeking ...

"Yessssss." Anders closed his eyes and threw his head back as Garrett, eyes fixed on Anders's face, pushed his index finger into his lover's body. It was hot and tight and nothing like a woman's body. The muscles clamped down at the intrusion and Garrett swallowed, imagining what it would be like when it was his cock and not his finger.

"Another one," said Anders. "Ah! W-work them in and out. Spread them a bit, like, uhn, yes. Like that. Maker. Maker."

It was entrancing, captivating. Garrett watched Anders bite his lips and whine and pant and clench his toes into the sheets and decided that he could happily do this all night.

"Alright, one more," said Anders.

Garrett lowered his head and licked Anders's cock, base to head, once, as he slipped the last finger in.

"Fuck!" Anders arched up under him, feet planted on the mattress.

"Glorious," Garrett whispered, spreading his fingers inside.

"Nnh," said Anders. "Stop, stop, that's enough, I'm going to ..."

Garrett remembered Isabela's long, strong fingers, and crooked his as he withdrew them. Anders writhed and groaned through clenched teeth, then sat up and tossed Garrett over on his back again.

"Who," he panted, grabbing the jar again, "taught you that? Nevermind, I know. I may have to buy her a drink next time we're at the Hanged Man."

"Buy her two," said Garrett. "She's the one who told me not to give up on you. Oh, Maker!"

Anders smirked at him, working the balm firmly up and down Garrett's cock. "She's been telling me for months to 'hoist your mizzen.'"

"What a wise, wise woman," said Garrett. "Anders, that feels so good."

Anders put the balm aside, shifted. "Ready?" He smiled down at Garrett, want and care and love shining from his eyes.

"Yes," Garrett whispered through dry lips.

Anders lifted up, took hold of Garrett with a sure hand, and then sank back down again.

Garrett couldn't speak. Could not. He bit the insides of his cheeks, trying to maintain some kind of control as Anders took him slowly in, eyelids fluttering, mouth open, cheeks flushed.

"Uhn," said Anders. "Oh. _Maker_. It's - it's been a while." He shivered, hands tensing on Garrett's chest, and dropped another inch. "I - the feel of you ... I never thought I would actually ..."

Garrett put his hands to Anders's hips, where the skin was satin smooth and hairless. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the burn, worked his fingers restlessly, trying not to just grab and pull Anders down, hard.

"Is it good?" Anders asked breathlessly. "Do you like it? Your cock inside me, is it good? Feels so good, Garrett, you make me whole, you make me feel whole ..." He slid down all the way at last, seating himself into the cradle of Garrett's hips and grinding for a moment, thighs tensing and releasing rhythmically.

"Anders," Garrett moaned.

Anders began to move, his upper body swaying with sinuous hypnotizing slowness. "All the times you've held me," he said. "Wrapped me up and kept me warm and held me together, I will never be able to tell you. But I'm holding you now. Garrett."

"Yes," said Garrett. Hot. Anders was hot inside, tight and smooth and hot.

"Let me hold you," Anders said. "Let - let me be the one."

"You," said Garrett. "Only you."

Anders tucked his feet under Garrett's raised thighs, put his hands down on either side of Garrett's waist, and started to fuck him in earnest. Garrett planted his feet, dug his fingers into Anders's hips, and did his best to keep up.

"I'm not going to," he said, agonized. "I can't ..."

Anders made no reply, only moved faster, harder, his amber eyes burning into Garrett's.

It was gathering, building in his spine and his belly and his balls. "I'm going to come, Anders, I'm going ..."

"Yes," said Anders, panting. "Yes, you are."

" _Anders_ ," said Garrett.

"Come for me."

"Yes, yes, I ..."

"Come for me, Garrett, come in me, do it, I want to see you -"

Garrett arched up, mouth opening, pleasure like fire flaring through him. He sobbed a little as he came, helplessly.

"Yes," Anders whispered, crooned, rocking slower, drawing it out. "Yes, yes, yes, like that, so beautiful ..."

Garrett clutched at him, stilling him, twitching with over-sensitized reaction. His throat was dry, his eyes wet. "Oh, Maker."

Anders leaned forward and smiled at him, joyous and smug. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed. "That was probably the best moment of my life."

"You ..." Garrett coughed a little. "You didn't even come."

Anders smirked at him. "The best moment _yet_."

"Let me ..." Garrett struggled to sit up and Anders pushed him back down again, easily.

"You're fine where you are." Anders twisted agilely, scooped up his shirt and then lifted slowly off Garrett, who hissed a little at the sensation. "All limp and relaxed," Anders went on as he gently cleaned them both up. "I can do everything. If you'll let me, if you'll trust me." He ran one hand along the back of Garrett's thigh and let it rest lightly against the inside swell of his buttock.

Garrett swallowed. "Fair's fair," he said and was gratified at how steady his voice was.

The smile Anders gave him was perfectly wicked. He lifted his other hand, flexed it, and then laid it beneath Garrett's navel where it pulsed muted blue-white. "Rejuvenate," he commented. "Not a popular spell, but it has its uses."

Lethargy was chased away by a sudden surge of energy. Garrett suddenly felt like leaping off the bed and running all the way to Lowtown and back. Chasing all the Qunari out of Kirkwall single-handed. Or maybe just leaping on Anders where he sat, wiggling his fingers in the air, and fucking him all over again.

"Magic," said Anders with great satisfaction. "Serving man."

"You are the most..." said Garrett, sat up, and pulled Anders against him. "Astonishing," he mumbled between kisses, "amazing, gorgeous man."

Anders melted against him, wrapped arms tight around him, returned his kisses with the same fervor and passion that he'd felt in the clinic. Garrett's cock came back to attention, pressing between them, nudging against Anders's. Anders moaned into Garrett's mouth and their hips began to move, a graceless, instinctual rocking.

Anders broke away, a bit wild-eyed. "Andraste's ass. You are killing me. Lay down. I'm going to, it's going to feel so good. I'm going to make it so good for you." As Garrett's back hit the mattress, Anders pushed his legs apart, lowered his head, and -

"Fuck!" The expletive rang off the ceiling. Garrett wasn't much of a curser, in the usual course of things, but there was nothing usual about the wet, heated swipe of Anders's tongue against the cleft of his buttocks. "Anders, wha - uhn!" Maker, he was _kissing_ \- and now pressing his tongue against, and _into_ ...

"Oh fucking Andraste, sweet Maker's _cock_ , Anders, what are you doing to me, fuck! Ah! Fucking Void!"

Anders emerged, groped on the sheet for the balm, and then went back down, laving his tongue against the skin behind Garrett's balls. A finger, slick and gentle and slow, pressed slowly into him and all the air left his lungs. It had been nice enough when Isabela did it, chuckling evilly in his ear. Anders went so much slower, devastatingly slow, and his fingers were thicker, and oh, longer.

A slow withdrawal and then the press forward again, two fingers this time, more slick, slow and patient, while Anders nipped at his thighs. He couldn't stop the swearing, his mouth was officially out of his control and descending into obscene blasphemies and filthy endearments.

Anders slid up his body, still slowly pumping his fingers. "Shocking language," he whispered. He stopped Garrett's mouth with his own and thrust his tongue in as he pushed a third finger to the hilt.

Garrett's shout was muffled. He seized Ander's upper arms and panted through his nose. There was a burn now but he hardly cared, whimpering and moaning into Anders's mouth as Anders spread his fingers and then bent them, searching.

Speechless. Blind. He turned his head into Anders's neck, shuddering.

"Now," Anders said, pulling his fingers free, shifting above Garrett. "Open your eyes."

He opened them.

Anders, hovering over him, braced on one arm. Those eyes, lambent in the light of the fire, that mobile mouth, a tender smirk dancing at the corners. Blond hair falling in tendrils all around his face. "Ready?" Anders asked him.

"Yes," said Garrett, meaning it in so many ways.

The blunt head of Anders's cock pressed against him and he breathed out, trying to relax. Pressure, pressure, tension and want twisting together like wires in his gut and then -

"Oh, Maker," Anders ground out.

Garrett said nothing at all. There was a deeper burn that Anders's fingers had produced and a full feeling that stole his breath and on one hand _ow_ but on the other Maker he wanted _more._

"Alright, sweetheart?" asked Anders, a crease between his brow.

"Yes," said Garrett.

"Hold still," said Anders and rocked his hips a little forward and then a little back, the shallowest thrusting imaginable. The burn intensified and then began to fade.

"Oh," said Garrett. "Oh, that's ... fuck."

"Profanity," said Anders. "That's what I was waiting for." He withdrew entirely, slicked his cock some more and then settled back onto Garrett. This time when he pushed, it was a smooth, perfect glide.

Garrett made a small choked sound. Opened. Taken. Helpless under Anders, passive, all the choices and decisions taken out of his hands, Anders lifting everything away as he seated himself deeper and deeper in.

"Maker. You're just ... Garrett, you ..."

"Do it. Oh, take me. I'm ... I'm yours. Anders. Forever."

Anders drew back. The sensation was exquisite and foreign and Garrett was so off kilter now. The slow thrust in again made him scrabble at the sheets. Anders tipped his pelvis, searching.

"Uh! Nuh-ah!"

"There is it," said Anders. "Yes, there it is."

He went on fucking Garrett slowly, deliberately. Garrett keened and panted and moaned and lost himself, bits and pieces coming away until he was writhing on the bed, clutching at Anders, lifting his hips into every thrust.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted brokenly.

"I've got you," said Anders. "Here. I have you. Come. It's - come, Garrett, you can come, I want you to. While I'm in you, I want to feel it, _come_." He leaned onto one hand again and clasped Garrett's cock with the other.

Three strokes and Garrett was undone. He cried out, spine bowing backwards, hands gripping Anders's shoulders.

"Ga-arrett! Yes, yes, yes, yes." Anders surged against him once, twice, quaking, and then dropped across his chest.

They lay there, panting, sweaty. Anders was heavy for such a lean man and Garrett savored the weight of him, the limp, slick reality of him. He turned his head sideways to bury his nose into the disheveled blond hair.

"Mmmn," said Anders into the curve of Garrett's neck. "I should probably move."

"No," said Garrett, wrapping his arms around Anders's ribs.

"You - I - oh, alright." Anders relaxed even more, draping himself bonelessly against Garrett.

 _Like a cat_ , Garrett thought. He grinned a little.

"So." Anders drawled the word. "Sex with men. How does it compare?"

"I don't know. Sex with _you_ is amazing." He could feel Anders slowly slipping out of him and he tucked his feet against Anders's ass, trying to postpone the inevitable.

Anders pushed himself up, grimacing a little. "Your sheets ..."

"To the Void with the sheets," said Garrett, knocking one of Anders's elbows out from under him. "Stay. I like you on me."

"All night? The charm will wear off eventually." It was only half a joke. Anders remained braced on one arm, looking down at Garrett.

"Forever," said Garrett. "I meant it."

Anders's breath went out in a little huff and he ducked his head. When he looked back up again he looked so raw and vulnerable that Garrett's arms tightened instinctively around him. "I love you," he said, quickly, almost fearfully. "I've been holding back from saying it. I - I don't know what's going to happen, or where my path will take me, and I can't offer you anything like a normal life ..."

"Anders," said Garrett, "Anders, Anders." He pulled Anders down and kissed him.

"I don't ever want to leave you," said Anders against his lips.

"Don't ever leave," said Garrett. "Stay. Stay here."

"What, on your chest?" Anders smiled.

"On my chest, in my house, by my side," said Garrett. "Stay. Please."

Anders reared back at that, eyes wide. His cock at last slipped free and Garrett bit his lip at the loss. "You - you mean... You'd have me move in here? Stand beside me before all the world and the Knight Commander to see?"

"Until the day I die," said Garrett, certainty like a bedrock beneath his words.

"I'm going to wake up," said Anders, making a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "In my narrow bed in Darktown, my pillow damp and your name on my lips."

Garrett rolled them, pinning Anders beneath him. "You're awake," he said. "And so am I. Three _years_ , Anders. Don't make me wait anymore." He kissed Anders on the mouth, on the cheeks, on his eyelids, tasting the tears that leaked slowly out. "Stay. Say you will."

"I will," said Anders. "Maker help me, of course I will."

They spooned together, and Garrett held Anders as closely as he could. This one he would keep safe. He swore it silently to himself, after Anders's breathing had slowed and his body gone limp and warm with sleep.

 _I will hold you_ , he vowed. _As long as these arms have strength, I will hold you safe._


End file.
